The Late Bloomer's Road to Love

by Marie Ferrarella

  Wyatt didn’t look as if he could be so naive—but she supposed that looks had nothing to do with it. And maybe her father had played on the man’s sympathies. But she knew her father a lot better than this handsome physical therapist did.

  Rachel shook her head. “He might say that he’ll keep up with the program, but I know my father. He won’t keep up with it no matter how good his intentions might be. Once he’s back here at the restaurant, he’ll get all caught up in running it, and that will be the end of his doing any sort of exercises. All his energies will be devoted to the restaurant.”

  To her surprise, Wyatt nodded his agreement. “Which is why I intend to keep on working with your father every morning—if that’s all right with you.”

  Rachel stared at Wyatt. The man was the answer to a prayer. “All right with me?” she echoed. “Wyatt, it’s perfect with me.” This new twist was a lot to ask not just Wyatt, but the person who employed him and ran the company, as well. “Are you sure this program will be all right with your boss, because if there’s a problem, I could talk to him or her and—” She watched as the smile blossomed on his face. She caught her breath, then pressed on. “What?”

  “I am the boss,” he told her.

  “You?” she questioned. “You don’t work for a physical therapy company?”

  “No, there’s just me.” There was no conceit in his voice. It was just a simple fact. “I decided to go into business for myself a little less than six months ago. I found that I worked best without having someone breathing down my neck, making me account for my every move. I get a better feel for the patient that way.”

  That gave him a lot in common with her father, she thought. He had bought the restaurant because he liked running things on his own rather than taking orders from someone. But there was still something that was bothering her.

  “All the other physical therapists who came to try to work with my father were sent over by the Albright Agency.” She looked at his face. He really did look trustworthy, she decided, but looks weren’t everything. “I don’t remember switching.”

  Although she had to admit that this man had turned out to be far better suited to her father’s needs and mindset than all the other physical therapists she had seen put together.

  “Technically, you didn’t,” Wyatt said. “Your father is the one who made the change. From what I gather, he talked to Maizie Sommers about getting a new physical therapist. Maizie got in contact with my aunt Theresa. I was in between patients, so—”

  That stopped her in her tracks. “Maizie Sommers,” she repeated. “She’s the one who got the wheels moving on this transfer?”

  Rachel had known the real estate agent for a long time since before her mother had died. Maizie was the one who had, along with Johanna, helped her father weather those very difficult, very sad times. In all that time, Rachel had never thought about asking Maizie if she knew any good physical therapists.

  “Well, in a roundabout way, yes,” Wyatt admitted, further confusing her. “I don’t know Maizie, but she knows my aunt Theresa—who’s not really my aunt, but my cousin.” He could see the confusion in Rachel’s eyes growing. “It’s just more respectful referring to her as my aunt because of the age difference—but the bottom line is I am a physical therapist and I did start up my own company,” he told Rachel. “Eventually I want to have a few other therapists become part of the company, but right now, it’s just me.”

  He could see that he hadn’t totally convinced her. There was only one thing for him to say. “Look, if you feel that you’d rather go back to the Albright Agency because you know them, I’ll totally understand.”

  She hadn’t meant to convey that to him. And she definitely didn’t want him to abandon her father. “Go back to the Albright? Oh no, no. You’re the first one my father stuck it out with, the first therapist he didn’t fire within twenty-four hours—or sooner,” she added, remembering one incident where her father had sent the woman out the door in less than an hour. “Why would I want to go back to something that didn’t work?” she asked Wyatt. “I was just afraid that my father was attempting to manipulate you.

  “But apparently, that’s not the case.” She smiled at him. “You’re very good for my father and I’d seriously consider bringing you into the family if it got you to stay on.”

  Wyatt laughed at the glib suggestion. “As intriguing as that sounds, that won’t be necessary. A paycheck will do just fine—and perhaps a recommendation after your dad’s fully recovered and I sign off on him.”

  The thought of Wyatt leaving made her feel unaccountably sad. She had no idea why. It didn’t make any sense to her. The feeling had caught her by surprise.

  “But that won’t be for a while, right?” Rachel asked him.

  He considered her question before he answered. “Well, I really can’t be specific, but from what I can see, it’s going to take a little while before I feel I can discharge your dad. I know it won’t be until I am satisfied that he’s fully able to carry out his duties.”

  They had managed to come full circle, Wyatt realized. They were now back to the question he had come to ask her in the first place. He searched her face and felt as if he had won her over. But he wasn’t about to assume anything.

  “So, can I tell your father that you have no objections to his coming in to the restaurant to work after we have completed his morning physical therapy session?” he asked.

  She nodded. “As long as you feel that he can handle it. You know, it’ll feel good not to be the ‘bad guy’ for a change,’” she confessed with a smile. “And it’s not that I didn’t want him here. It’s just that I didn’t want to find him crumpled on the kitchen floor again the way that I did that first time when he had that terrible heart attack and I was sure I had lost him.”

  Wyatt did his best to paint an encouraging scenario for her. Both she and her father needed it. “Don’t worry about it. As long as he continues seeing his doctor regularly, taking his medications and doing his physical therapy sessions—also on a regular basis—your father should fare better than a lot of other men his age—or younger. I also feel that he would benefit from feeling that his life has some real meaning to it,” he added. “I get the impression from him that he feels that way about running his restaurant.”

  Wyatt wasn’t mistaken, she thought. It amazed her that he had gotten such a good handle on her father in such a short amount of time. The man was really good at his job.

  “Point taken,” Rachel agreed. “Listen, I have to be getting back to my duties,” she told him, nodding toward the main restaurant area, “but you should feel free to stay here as long as you like. Order whatever you like for dinner.”

  It occurred to him that what he would like wasn’t on the menu. The next moment he cautioned himself that thinking like that could easily make him lose the ground he had just managed to gain. Mixing work with pleasure was never a good idea.

  So he smiled at her, reminding Rachel, “I’ve already turned that kind offer of yours down.”

  “Yes,” she agreed, remembering. “But that offer was tendered more than fifteen minutes ago, before we had our nice chat. I thought that all this talking might have made you hungry.”

  Actually, he was hungry. But he didn’t want to eat alone and she had made it obvious that she had things to do.

  Wyatt rose to his feet. “Maybe some other time,” he told her. “I’ll take a rain check.”

  There was no question about it, Rachel thought. Wyatt Watson had a thousand-watt smile. And dimples, heart-melting dimples. The man got better-looking every time she saw him.

  Mind back on your work, Rach. You’ve got a restaurant to run and a class to go to after that. You don’t have time to moon over a Greek god with sky-blue eyes and knee-weakening dimples. Get your degree first. Enough time has gone by.

  “Deal,” she agreed. “Feel free to stop by for some br
acing espresso whenever the need hits you.”

  His eyes met hers just before he took his leave. “It’s a deal,” he promised as he walked away.

  “You chased him away?” Johanna asked.

  Rachel jumped, then swung around, her hand over her pounding heart. “Were you hiding behind a column, eavesdropping all this time?” she cried.

  “I just happened to be in the area,” Johanna said innocently.

  “Right,” Rachel scoffed.

  “So is it true?” Johanna asked, unable to contain her curiosity.

  “Is what true?”

  There was no mistaking the delighted look on the assistant manager’s face. “That your dad’s coming back to Vesuvius?”

  Rachel gazed off in the general direction that Wyatt had taken when he left the restaurant. “Well, it looks that way,” she answered. She certainly hoped that the physical therapist hadn’t been too optimistic when he tried to convince her that her father could come back to work.

  Johanna’s face lit up even more than it usually did. “I knew I liked that young man the first time I saw him,” she exulted.

  Johanna had a big heart and always found something to like about everyone. It was in her general nature.

  “You liked Elliott the first time you saw him, too,” Rachel reminded the woman.

  Unfazed, Johanna shrugged. “A person is entitled to one mistake in their lives. The important thing is to learn from it, not dwell on it.”

  Rachel laughed shortly, shaking her head. There was no way that Johanna ever saw anything in a really bad light. Everything always turned into something that came with a positive promise. That was one of the woman’s best qualities.

  “I’ve got to get back to making the list of supplies to order before I leave.” Rachel hesitated, looking at the assistant manager. She had already asked once, but it didn’t hurt to ask a second time. “Do you think you can close up tonight?”

  “I don’t think,” Johanna replied, observing how much the girl was like her father. “I know. I can also finish up that inventory list for you.”

  Rachel didn’t like putting too much responsibility on someone else’s shoulders. It made her feel as if she was dropping the ball.

  “That’s okay, Johanna, I’ve got this,” she assured her.

  Johanna gave her a penetrating look. “Just remember, that was what your father kept saying. But sometimes, it’s a good thing to take it easy—” her smile turned wicked “—unless, of course it involves Mr. Easy-on-the-Eyes.”

  Rachel shook her head. The woman never gave up. “Down, Johanna. Yes, the man is good-looking, but I am not in the market for a man—any man.”

  Johanna’s expression turned serious. The woman had felt really bad for her when Elliott ended up marrying someone he had met in college. She would have scratched his eyes out if she could. “Rachel, don’t let one really bad experience sour you on the idea of all men. To be very honest, your father never cared for Elliott to begin with—and neither did I,” she said, surprising Rachel. “The man’s world centered only around himself. You came in a distant second. Would you really have wanted to spend the next ten to twenty years with someone like that?”

  Rachel sighed as the whole experience came vividly back to her, both the tears as well as the anger.

  “No, of course not.” She knew that now, but at the time she’d felt as if she had been sucker punched right in the stomach.

  “That’s my girl,” Johanna said, giving her a quick hug. “If you ask me, he did you a favor. Now you’re free to focus your attention on a real man.”

  “You have people lining up at the hostess table,” Rachel pointed out, wanting to change the subject. “I’ll call this in—” she indicated the inventory list she had compiled of the supplies the restaurant needed for the following week “—and then go. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Johanna nodded. “Don’t worry about a thing,” she told Rachel. “And see about getting to sleep earlier than five in the morning.”

  “I’ll do my best.” Rachel knew she sounded as if she was just paying lip service, but the truth of it was that she wound up staying up later far more often than she was happy about.

  It wasn’t that the online classes were difficult; it was just that she was really trying to absorb every nuance of every class. To her, her mother had been the ultimate nurse and she was determined to be every bit as good as she could be. She honestly didn’t believe that she could be better than her mother had been. But she didn’t want to bring any shame to her mother’s memory.

  That required a great deal of work. Hard work had never frightened her. However, she would have loved to get more than a few minutes’ sleep at night.

  Well, as long as she didn’t fall asleep driving home, she’d be all right. It was one thing to lay her head down on her arms at the computer; it was quite another to suddenly realize that her eyes were closed as she was driving.

  Feeling the haze of sleep coming over her, she debated pulling over to the side of the road for a quick nap. But if she did that, who knew how long she’d wind up sleeping? And she knew her father would be waiting for her to get in from the restaurant. If she took a nap on the side of the road, even a short one, he’d really be worried that she was late.

  Even if she called to tell him what she was doing, she knew that he would be worried. More than that, he’d tell her that he was coming to get her. It wouldn’t matter if she told him not to; she knew he’d come anyway.

  Though his doctor had given him a clean bill of health, he was her dad and she intended to protect him at all costs. They were alike like that, she and her father, Rachel thought—except she was healthy and it wasn’t all that long ago that he hadn’t been.

  She searched for a way to keep awake.

  Unaccountably, Wyatt’s image flashed through her mind. And then it came to her. She’d just think about the physical therapist until she could get home. She could focus on how much good he was already doing to her father’s well-being.

  It was really fortunate, she thought, that her father had stumbled across the real estate agent, telling her his problem. He probably complained about how she was being so stubborn, refusing to let him go back to his beloved restaurant until he fulfilled the physical therapy sessions his cardiologist felt he needed to do in order to get back to his old self.

  Heaven bless Maizie, she thought.

  Before she knew it, Rachel was home.

  Chapter Seven

  Her father was waiting up for her, or at least that appeared to have been his initial intention. George Fenelli was sitting, slightly slumped, in his favorite recliner.

  She could remember sitting in his lap as a little girl as he sat in that chair. Remembered having her father read stories to her until she would finally fall asleep, at which point he would carry her upstairs and put her in her bed.

  Now it seemed to be his turn to fall asleep in that chair. The TV was on, obviously in an effort to keep him awake. A rerun of an episode from an old comedy series called Hunting With Harry, which he used to enjoy watching with her mother, was playing in the background. But the show had apparently lost its audience. Her father was sound asleep.

  Rachel was tempted to just let him go on sleeping, but she knew that if he continued to doze sitting up in that position, every bone in his body would be really aching by morning—or whenever he did finally wake up.

  Although she dreaded waking him up, she knew it would be kinder to do that and send him off to his bed where he could get a decent night’s sleep than just to leave him here, slumped over like this.

  She stood over him for a moment, smiling to herself. This had to be what it was like to have kids. Waking them up to go upstairs to their rooms after they had fallen asleep in front of the television set.

  Very gently, she placed her hand on his shoulder and shook him just a little. Whe
n he didn’t open his eyes, she shook a little harder.

  She did it two more times until her father finally opened his eyes.

  “Hi, sleepyhead,” Rachel said fondly.

  Her father roused himself, blinking. “Rachel,” he murmured, pulling himself up in the recliner. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  “Well, it looks like the excitement of anticipating my arrival was too much for you and you fell asleep,” she said with a laugh.

  “I didn’t fall asleep,” her father protested with feeling. “I was just resting my eyes.”

  Her grin grew. “Seems like you rested your eyes very well. It took me three tries to get you to open them,” she said. “Now let’s see about getting you upstairs so you can put that bed of yours to good use.”

  She had put in a great deal of research, looking for the best bed to get for her father after his surgery. He had even commented that when he was on it, it was like sleeping on a cloud.

  “Says the girl who sleeps on her keyboard,” her father scoffed.

  “Woman, Dad,” she corrected her father patiently, not for the first time. “I’m a woman.”

  “Maybe to other people, but to me, you’ll always be my little girl,” George said. “So you just might as well stop fighting it. I’m an old dog. I’ve learned all the new tricks I’m going to learn.”

  She knew better, but she was way too worn out to argue. “Yes, Dad.”

  George nodded. “That’s better. And for the record, I didn’t fall asleep. Only old men fall asleep in front of the TV. I’m not an old man.”

  She refrained from pointing out that he had just referred to himself as an old dog. If she were being honest, she really didn’t like thinking of her father in that light. Part of her wanted to believe that he would go on forever. But that heart attack had really scared her right down to her toes.